


A Swift Blade and Swifter Feet

by sp00kworm



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Amatsu, Animal Death, Assassination, Backround Exploration, Backstory, Betrayal, Blood, Broken Bones, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Gore, Mental Health Issues, Religion, Sibling Death, Survivor Guilt, Training, Violence, Wounds, assassination attempt, battle tactics, battles, non-canon backstory, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm
Summary: The Yen'fay of one world died atop the volcanic rim of the Demon's Ingle, yet still another moved through an alternate reality of another world. His choices were the same, yet the outcome different. He chose to protect his sister, siding with the enemy, with Valm and Walhart. At war with himself, he did not know that his sister was still at risk, and like he feared, Say'ri was taken from him. The Demon, they called him on the battle field, and a demon he became, protecting the tomb of the sister he failed while becoming a traitor to his homeland as it burned beneath Walhart's iron fist.





	A Swift Blade and Swifter Feet

The battle was vicious and cruel. Yen’fay had seen his fair share of battle, blood and guts, but this army was different. Warriors clad in blood red armour, and the blood of his friends. He was not accustomed to watching yielding men being slaughtered like pigs. It was not an honourable death. They were cut open at the neck and threw aside to bleed out. A kind death would be to slide a sword through their heart or a dagger through their eyes. This army was here for conquest and blood. Fear. For the first time in his life, the Swordmaster felt fear curl his gut into a crippled mush. It made his veins pound harder as he landed a leap and howled with rage, cutting a mage down with a great cleave of Amatsu. Their family was dead. The King and Queen of Chon’sin laid in a waste side on the roads, killed by Walhart before they could ever reach the creature’s castle and negotiate peace. Rage boiled within him as he fought to defend their own castle, and the surrounding shrine. Say’ri was gone. She had run to the tree…Hopefully she had escaped to find Tiki. The great sleeping vessel would be able to protect her, or so he hoped.

The anger burned in his gut as he shifted his stance, sliding to avoid a bolt of thunder before he cut the mage upwards. The woman was dead before she hit the ground, and Yen’fay flicked the blood from his sword, watching it join the rest of the red staining the white stone. The door thundered once more as more reinforcements joined them. Cavalry charged in, lances down, hooves thundering on the cobbles, screaming a war cry as the infantry of Chon’sin wobbled, falling beneath the charging war horses, trampled or skewered by the pointed lances. They had no pikers left to defend the halls, and a few formations closed in too late. A few caught the war beasts on their pikes but fell beneath the weight of the horses as the creatures bled out on top of them. It was a gory scene, hearing his men scream. Yen’fay howled in anger, whirling to cut a Swordmaster off, severing his hands from his blade before he gutted him.

Amatsu glittered as he turned, the cavalry charging down the smaller corridors. A few mages gathered, spell tokens glittering as they summoned the beasts of old. A red dragon curled from their combined power, spewing fire down the halls, searing the horses and melting their riders inside their heavy metal armour. Yen’fay felt his hair stick to his neck as he turned in a quick riposte, dodging a lance before sliding his blade along the length of the shaft and slicing the man’s shoulder. With a twist he slammed the blade down over the soldier’s back and ended him on the stone with a shift stab to the back of his neck, severing his spinal column along with his arteries.

“MY PRINCE!” He heard a woman cry before he whirled, tunic and black scale armour clinking. Yen’fay’s eyed widened as a great tanned beast of a war horse thundered through the doors. Red and black armour shone as the famed Conqueror of Valm rode through his army, Wolfberg cleaving three heads in the speed that he could blink.

He thought on the family he had lost and steeled his stance, legs spread, and body coiled low.

“You die here boy!” Walhart announced himself as he rode for him, the horse beneath him foaming at the mouth, crazed with the smell of blood and seared horse flesh. Yen’fay observed the creature as the man raised his axe and waited. He could see his own reflection in the blood red armour as he slid beneath the cleaving swipe from Wolfberg’s blade and drew the gutting, razor sharp edges of Amatsu along the war horse’s belly and cleaved up beneath it’s back leg. The creature screamed and crashed to the floor, blood and guts spurting from its stomach. Walhart fell with the beast. Yen’fay blinked slowly, feeling the blood along his gloved hands go sticky as he readied himself again, heaving a deep breath.

A bark of laughter sounded before a red hand pushed the horse away like it was nothing. The horse flopped over the stone and Walhart stood with the help of his great axe.

“You are impressive, Chon’sin King.” White eyes scrunched at the sides as the man stepped over the corpse of his mount, lazily laying his weight against his weapon as he stood.

Yen’fay peered at the man for a moment, looking at the horns of his head brace and the dangerous red of his armour. His lavender clothing fluttered as his thighs clenched. The man didn’t say a word as he flew forwards, sword battering against Walhart’s axe.

His teeth ground as the ringing of the metal reverberated up his arms, “You or I die here.” Yen’fay spat as he drew away. Walhart only chuckled, pressing his advantage with another quick swing of Wolfberg, the axe painted red, spraying blood along the lavender colour of Yen’fay’s coat tails. The axe crashed against him again, weakening his arms as the muscles shuddered under the power of the blows. He felt his arms go numb and slashed forwards blindly before he was forced to his knees, his body quaking with exhaustion and burning with aches in his muscles.

“Curse you.” Yen’Fay spat blood from his mouth, trying to feel his arms and legs again, pushing Amatsu into the stone to try and right himself, “Fie, I will not die to you like a dog.” The leather of his gloves squeaked as he twisted the hilt of Amatsu, dark eyes glaring at the Emperor before him.

Walhart’s crashing laughter made him growl, pushing himself up once more, and failing to stand as the great armour clanked against the stone floor. Walhart’s grin made his gut twist with anger, bile rolling in his stomach as he felt the axe scrape along the stone.

“You can die like the rest of your pathetic followers.” Wolfberg swished as Walhart drew the axe up over his shoulder.

“Or, my liege, you can use the fearsome Yen’fay, to your advantage?” Excellus’ scratching voice made Yen’fay grumbled again, pinned in place by Wolfberg’s blade against his neck, the black steel sharpened into a silvery point, “His Sister is in range of the snipers as we speak.” The man’s great foul grin made anger burn anew in his gut.

“Good. Kill the brat, I do not want her interfering.” Walhart dismissed the idea with a wave.

Excellus shook his head, “But, my liege, you could have control of the Southern reigons simply with Yen’fay. They fear him. Him turning with solidify your alliance with them.” He offered, head bowed.

A moment of silent passed, and Yen’fay felt his legs strengthen. He heaved himself up only to twist for a slash and be sent clattering to the stone once more.

“We could easily just kill your brat of a sister should you not side with us, King of Chon’sin.” Excellus giggled, slicking his greasy black hair back.

“Fie! I will never…” Yen’fay thumped the stone before Excellus summoned an orb of glittering magic. Another mage held the other end and he saw Say’ri running, he sword sheathed as she dashed through the trees. He saw the glint of an arrow tip and swallowed.

“See? Your sister will die should you refuse, Yen’fay. She will die like a traitor, in the dirt, before she ever reaches that pathetic tree and Naga’s ancient crone of a vessel.” Excellus spat.

Walhart stood over the mage, “Silence, worm.” And peered at the downed swordmaster, “No man has survived more than two hits from me, yet you remain alive. I am impressed.” He offered his hand, “Do not take this as an act of kindness. I would rather watch you burn than allow you to live. Prove yourself useful and I wont take your Sister’s head from her shoulders and force you to watch.”

Yen’fay felt like slapping the hand away. Yet to save Say’ri, he would do anything. She was right in this war. He begged for forgiveness as he pulled himself up with Amatsu and took Walhart’s hand. The Emporer grinned, a primal smile, full of predatory teeth, and heaved him upwards, slamming Wolfberg into the stone as Yen’fay stood before him. They were evenly match. Yen’fay was tall and broad, yet Walhart packed more muscle, a true powerhouse of a man. A beast, Yen’fay spat in his head as he sheathed Amatsu, the golden blade sliding into it’s sheath.

“Gather your forces, General, you are to unify the South before you dare to show your face before me. I care not how, but you will make them kneel.” Walhart strode past him, black cape flowing as he scowled at his dead charger.

“Excellus, have another war horse brought to me. I wish to be out of this place before nightfall.” Walhart’s thundering footfalls grew quieter, Excellus chattering away behind him as they left Yen’fay stood in the ruins of his childhood home.

Yen’fay looked at the blood-soaked floor and gazed around the room. A summoner moved to his side, fear evident on his face.

“My King…We cannot do as he asks. Our numbers are too few.” He muttered, fluttering his spell tags as he gazed at their gore covered leader.

“We will…” He could not find his voice for a moment and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his hands curling into tight fists by his sides, “We can do as he asks. Our forces are still in reserve. They will be here by sundown, friend. For…” He had no right to speak her name any longer, “Chon’sin will survive.”

“But, my King, your sister?” There was fear in the man’s words.

Yen’fay looked at his sticky hands before he spoke, clear enough for the soldiers in the room to hear, “I have no sister.”

Fear was easy enough to breed. Slaughtering villages was not what he wanted, but it was demanded of him, and Yen’fay felt the blood drench and drip through his hands day by day as they rode south through the continent, butchering and burning targeted strongholds. The southern region and Dynasts quickly fell to heel, fearing his face and his blade. He bested champions and felt their ribcages crunch beneath his boots, blood dripping from Amatsu and obscuring the rubies set into the blade. He returned to Walhart as the man had asked, with his bulked-out army from the south of Valm and each of the kingdoms at his heel. The Demon Yen’fay was his nickname. He pulled his head armour from his face as he entered Walhart’s throne room. The red clad Emporer merely peered from his maps and grinned. It was a smile Yen’fay hated deep within his gut.

“Yen’fay. I assume you have only dared to show your face because you have achieved what I asked of you?” Walhart guffawed, moving the pieces that represented his cavalry with a menacing look.

“Aye. I have brought the South to heel, as you asked of me.” Yen’fay looked at the map, eyes looking at the boats set to cross the ocean, “Though it seems you have larger goals than Valm. Pray tell, what do you want from such a poor continent. Not two years ago they were ravaged with infighting and war.” Yen’fay observed as Walhart shifted more pieces onto the fleet.

“I will unify the world. They will break beneath my iron fist.” That was all he offered to his General as Yen’fay observed him pilling a small number of soliders on. It was no great massive army, but it would undoubtedly cause a great disturbance in their neighbouring continent. 

“I will leave you, Emporer. Summon me as you should need me. I will return to the South.” Yen’fay turned to leave, lavender coat whirling, before Walhart slammed his hand on the war table.

“Return to the south and prepare to meet our enemies. If I catch wind of you even thinking about warning your sister…” Walhart’s fist closed and Yen’fay merely observed the movement.

“I never would do such a thing.” The doors closed with a thunderous clap behind him.

Late evenings within the palace were usually full of silence. Walhart was no frivolous Emperor. He cared not for great tables of food, and preferred meals without meat. It was rumoured that he had buried the charger Yen’fay had cleaved open in the gardens. Yen’fay pondered for a moment, when he heard the maids talking, as to whether or not the man could feel like the rest of them. Such anguish would suggest that he could. Some suggested that even this conquest was out of anger and revenge. A maid had muttered in the kitchens about the man once having a family, though the Emperor seemed not old enough to have a grown child. Yen’fay banished the ideas as quick as he heard them. Walhart did not need a reason to cleave his head from his body even if he heard of him indulging in such rumours.

Still, the silence in the palace allowed for Yen’fay to indulge in simple practices within the walls. He only hoped he was not being followed my one of Excellus’ snakes. He had purposely flitted through the kitchens and gardens, meditating for some time in the grass before he had allowed himself to think about going back to his rooms. The night air was hot with the summer heat, and Yen’fay stripped his tight undershirt and sleeves quickly, undoing the ties holding them around his body before he trained. The tree deep in the gardens was thick with age, and Yen’fay drew a practice blade before striking the trunk. Bark flew towards his face, his hair flapping in a ponytail. Anger surged in his blood as he struck at the tree, again and again, arms burning with the shuddering of the blade. The wood chunks spewed to the floor as he growled and slammed at the wood again, watching bark fly past his head. He thought of his homeland, taxed under Empire rule, his people and then his sister. The practice blade cracked as he tore another chunk from the trunk. He howled then and struck once more. When his arms stopped aching, he did it again, feeling the vibrations from the force of the blow in his elbows.

Yen’fay huffed and threw the blade to the floor, looking at it with a growl. The length was cracked and the edges blunt. He’d used it beyond repair, forcing the blunt edges into the wood with sheer force after a while. His chest heaved, covered in sweat, and his hair hung in a loose, low, ponytail, sticking to the back of his neck. Yen’fay pulled at his trousers and felt the slickness of sweat over his legs too. He needed to bathe, but for a moment he sat in the grass and observed the night sky. The stars glittered brightly overhead, the constellations in different positions than they were in Chon’sin. The sound of his own breathing rushed in his ears, and after a brief glance at the bushes, Yen’fay stooped his head, and pressed his hands together.

“Almight Naga, Goddess of Light, I beg of thee, see my Sister safe…Do not let…Do not let her die.” His shoulders shook as he thought of the Goddess of Light, the healer and the protector. He hoped she would hear him and grant his traitorous request. The other Gods had not listened, but Naga, she could hear. They were taught that from birth. There were no temples in their homeland. Walhart had razed them and their deities. Religion had no room in subjugation in Walhart’s mind. He was to be the God of the new world, and Yen’fay could have spat on the man for being so foolish. To anger the gods was to mean death. Yet none of the figures Walhart had tore down had saw fit to smite the creature.

“Perhaps they have abandoned us. Abandoned us to our fates locked in bloody clashes.” Yen’fay scoffed at himself, “So be it. I will fight to protect her and my homeland.” He promised to the moon, gazing at the stars. It was then he felt the pain in his finger. He had shattered it against the tree trunk. With a grumble, he pulled his finger straight, feeling agony curl through his arm and hand, and moved to grab for his coats. A bandage fell from his pocket, and Yen’fay gently bandaged and tied it to another.

The brushes rustled as he finished his task, and Yen’fay kicked the practice sword sharply, watching the dull edge before it disappeared into the bush and clattered against someone. The spy jumped with a yelp, and Yen’fay growled, watching the Assassin jump up, arrow drawn tight on their bow.

“Shoot me. You will not hit your mark.” He warned as he reached to draw Amatsu. The glitter of gold made the archer shoot. The arrow pinged into the leaves as Yen’fay advanced, slicing the flat of the blade against it. The assassin drew a dagger but was quickly set upon with a dual slice, right to left and then upwards. He choked blood through his mask before slicing wildly. The dagger missed and Yen’fay stood over him, pressing the heel of his boot into the man’s chest.

“Traitor.” Blood gurgled in the Assassin’s throat, “Walhart will hear of your beggings to the Gods.”

“Fie. Your screams will not even reach his ears.” Yen’fay pushed his heel deep before bringing the tip of Amatsu down, severing the man’s head cleanly. The body could rot in the pond. Yen’fay looked at the blood on his chest and took a breath, steadying himself as he sought out rope and enough heavy rocks to hold the rotting corpse in the depths. The catfish would enjoy a meal of such a great size. That was what he told himself as he pushed the body into the water with the tip of his boot. The black fabric billowed as the body sunk. Yen’fay turned away in disgust.

He slaughtered a wolf on the way back to explain his appearance. No one questioned it as he threw the creature before the guards. They could have the pelt if they so wished.

His prayers to Naga were ignored.

Yen’fay peered down at the soiled corpse of his sister and felt anger swirl through his soul.

“You promised you wouldn’t harm her.” Yen’fay spoke softly, hands twitching to grab at the mage next to him.

“It was your army that forced her onto the battlefield, General. You, and you alone, are responsible for her death.” Excellus’ manic grin made his stomach churn.

“There were orders…” He felt tears burn his eyes.

“Orders that your soldiers ignored.” Excellus giggled for a moment before he squawked, Yen’fay grasping the front of his robes in a death grip. His other hand wrangled the mage around the neck and held him against the pillar.

“Squirm you foul worm. You are behind this!” Yen’fay roared, arm pressed to Excellus’ wind pipe.

“Release my tactician, General, or I will see you join your sister on my throne room floor.” Walhart slammed Wolfberg against the stone, and silence fell over the court. Yen’fay released Excellus with shaking fists and watched the worm fall to the floor, heaving for breath.

Yen’fay turned away to gaze at his sister. Her hair was longer than he remembered, held back by headbands, her swords removed from her corpse already.

“Give me her swords. She will not be buried without her blades.” Yen’fay felt himself falter and he stooped to sweep her hair from her face. Two arrows stuck from her chest and magic had cleaved her side open. He fell to his knees, sword sheaths clattering against the stone as he held her head in his hand, pulling her body up to his chest, cradling her closely.

“Who are you to make demands of me?” Walhart announced before he let Say’ri’s Chon’sin made blades fall to the foot of his throne, “You can have them. Collect them and her and do as you see fit. I will revel in our victory, even if you will not, General.”

Yen’fay took the sheet and wrapped it around his sister’s body, hiding her bloodied face from the world before he walked slowly, collecting her swords from the base of Walhart’s throne.

As he knelt to collect them, Walhart scoffed, “Pathetic, such weakness. Get out of my sight.” He ignored the burning scorn from the statement and took his sister’s swords.

Walhart never pursued him out of the Kingdom. He was left with his family grave and abandoned to rot. Chon’sin fell under heel quickly, a rebellion resulting in a slaughter of the only thing he had left. His correspondence after that went quiet. Everything he had once called his own was dead. His family and his home. His honour had died with the loss of his sister. Yen’fay spent nights sat by the tombstone, head bowed, looking at the blade of Amatsu before him. A swift cut with the blade to his gut, and upwards to his heart would be penance for his crimes. He had failed everyone. Some nights the blade appeared appealing to him. Mercenary work fed him when the woods could not, and Yen’fay was a ghost of a dead region in the eyes of the villagers. A dead sword art walking among them. A demon to those he killed for coin. The risen were a great problem with the stirrings of dark power in the Plegian lands. He’d seen them in the woodlands and took the heads from those that dared to run at him.

Risen crushed against the doors to the tombs of Chon’sin’s nobility. Yen’fay donned his armour, the horns of his headband glinting as he pulled his family sword from its scabbard. The golden metal shinned as he took his stance. The hoard screeched as they breached the doors, rushing for the ghost standing by the graves. Yen’fay howled in anger as he whirled, dashing to slice three warrior’s heads off. He cringed at their armour. Ancient Chon’sin warriors pulled from their graves to kill the living for their dark master.

“Die foul creatures!” He screamed as he took the heads of three more. They ran abnormally fast, and Yen’fay quickly learned there was no pattern to their twitching movements. Swordmasters dashed at him and traded blows before he tore open their fronts. The head was the only way to kill them, and Yen’fay rushed to slice at the necks of those that toppled over.

White light blinded them all. Yen’fay cursed as something whirred and opened above him. His tailcoats fluttered before the eye opened and a gateway opened under his feet.

“Fie, not yet! I cannot...” Ringing deafened him as he was torn through the ripple in time, away from the pilfering Risen and towards an unknown destination. The last thing he saw was Say’ri’s grave tilting, the earth churning as her deathly pale hand appeared from the ground. He hit the ground once again in a realm he knew well. The flowers were the same as his homeland. He peered around and watched the cherry blossoms fall from the trees.

It was months later when the ash haired tactician found him. Yen’fay tore through the risen with a cold sneer, watching them twitch and evaporate into gunk, ash and purple smoke. The stench was foul and he turned away only to see a ghost before him.

“Say’ri…” He swallowed as he watched his Sister move towards him, “Nay, you are not my sister.”

“Nay. I am not, brother. But tis you who passed in this world, not I.” Say’ri gave him a look of steel as the tactician approached, a tome clutched in her hands.

“Yen’fay?” She gasped before letting out a breath, “Thank the Goddess. I thought we were going to find you as a Risen.”

“Robin, this man is not my brother. He hails from another world.” Say’ri nodded and held the golden blade of Amatsu towards him, “We bear the sword of our family, they are the same, brother.”

Yen’fay’s jaw twitched before Say’ri turned from him, coldly, “You are not the Yen’fay I knew, but you should not punish yourself as though I am your Say’ri. I doubt she would want that either.” She walked away from him, sheathing her version of Amatsu.

“She is cold, but she is glad to see you…or a version of you, once more.” Robin’s voice was soft as she pushed her hood down.

“I deserve none of her admiration.” He choked out, looking at the corpses of the Risen.

“Then earn it. Help us and earn her respect.” Robin’s dark gaze ripped into his soul, and the Swordmaster nodded softly, holding his blade tightly. Her cool fingers touched his armoured shoulder, “Don’t punish yourself here…Not while you have her to love again.”

“Aye…Perhaps you are right.” Yen’fay nodded but didn’t move to join the forces. Robin whirled at Chrom’s shout and smiled before leaving him stood in the dripping canyon.

“I will fight then, tactician. I will fight to defend her and my homeland here. I will do what my cowardice could not in my own world.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic while I cried over Yen'fay's lack of love and lore within the game. I chose to write my own for the Yen'fay you can recruit while addressing the hardships he himself faced as a traitor to his people and to the empire. I hope it was at least a little bit enjoyable?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are both greatly appreciated!


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